


Blame the Cars

by AvaCelt



Series: EXO Prompt Fills [15]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaCelt/pseuds/AvaCelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up next to a beautiful man is supposed to be the dream, but Yi Fan's a little pensive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame the Cars

Yi Fan cannot comprehend what’s more surprising- the dent in his bed signaling that there  _might_  be someone else next to him, or the arm splayed protectively around his waist  _proving_  he isn’t alone.

“How can you sleep so easily,” something croaky and half-dead asks him from the crook of his neck. Yi Fan has a wonderful poker face, so the sudden, ticklish feeling he gets after feeling warm wisps of breath on his pale skin goes unnoticed. “The honking won’t stop,” it groans.

Yi Fan blinks, only now coming to the conclusion that home is where the cars are- at least, the cars outside. There’s a train station about two blocks from where he lives, and there happen to be two car garages flanking the apartment complex he currently resides in. Another honk reverberates from outside and into the small apartment. The person responsible for the extra dent in his bed shudders and snuggles closer to his neck, breathing in whatever smells good there, though he doubts it smells like much since he hasn’t even gotten up and showered yet.

“But you look so peaceful,” it mutters drowsily. “Like how they write sleeping beauties in Harlequin romance novels,” it adds. “But you’re, like, the  _dude_  version of sleeping beauty, because you’re all quiet and breathing softly, like some humble prince in wait for his knight. I thought you were dead for a bit until I kissed you, and your lips were warm and then I realized my arm was still around you waist and then it came to me that you were just a quiet sleeper and that you were cute,” it continues to babble, marveling Yi Fan at how it can sound so sleepy but speak so swiftly anyway.

“We should do this again,” it says finally, breathing in his scent one more time, although Yi Fan truly cannot understand what’s so special about morning neck smells.

“Don’t you have work?” Yi Fan asks honestly. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

The latter chuckles into his collar, and Yi Fan makes the slightest reaction (he clears his throat). “Nope,” it answers. “I don’t work,” it continues. “I glide, like the wind. I soar, like the birds in the sky that reach towards something they can never reach.”

“You’re a writer,” Yi Fan concludes.

“I fix cars for a living, but my brother has control of the shop today,” it corrects. “But yes. I love writing, regardless of the cheese I produce.”

Yi Fan recalls that the brother is the one that introduced them to each other in the first place. Yi Fan didn’t drink the previous night, but somehow, the present “it” still managed to become his bedmate for the night (and a healthy portion of the morning, Yi Fan began to realize).

“That’s… nice,” Yi Fan says awkwardly. He doesn’t work much because he doesn’t have to. He writes jingles on his off days and sells them for about half a million a piece, and when he’s finished fine-tuning them, he strums his guitar and eats through books like caterpillars through leaves.

“You’re cute,” it repeats. “Like,  _really_  cute. Can I showcase you as my lover at the next poker game at my brother’s house?”

Yi Fan doesn’t know how it can manage to showcase him to others when it’s about a foot shorter, louder, and absolutely confusing to deal with. Though the lover portion sounds interesting, he’ll admit, since there’s a first time for everything. Yi Fan takes a deep breath and pushes off his comforter to reveal a pair of sweats. He blinks and realizes that that he’s also wearing a cotton t-shirt, fully clothed in short.

And so is it, except its jeans are scratchy and its shirt is a full sleeve tee that has a dinosaur imprinted on it.

Yi Fan reminds himself of his poker face and clears his throat promptly. “We didn’t-” he tries. “Did we?”

It pokes his head out of the crook of his neck, and suddenly, it becomes Zhang Yixing, the man who fixed his car the past week. “We what?” He asks, genuinely confused.

Yi Fan doesn’t like to blush, but he does, and Yixing’s eyes are already wide as they are, so when they become wider, Yi Fan thinks he’s looking at a cartoon version of the man he kissed the night before.

“We didn’t,” Yixing reassures voraciously. “We kissed, however,” he corrects, “but nothing beyond that.” He blinks and pinches his lips before continuing. “You were tired, and so was I… so we came back and fell asleep.”

The idea confuses Yi Fan, since most time, these things ended him in being stark naked with another man attached to his hip. He didn’t mind it, really, but never before had a person taken such a liking to his neck, or someone who waited for him to wake up.

But Zhang Yixing is decent and wants to showcase him at his brother’s poker party, so Yi Fan guesses he’s OK with a person with a thing for his neck, because hey, at least he waited for him to wake up.

“Why a poker party?” Yi Fan asks.

Yixing blinks and takes a moment to ponder the question, before his eyes light up and he grins. “Zitao is barred from the local gambling bar,” Yixing chatters, all semblance of sleep lost in his eyes, “so he has to make do with cookies as chips instead.”

Yi Fan doesn’t gamble much, but the thought of possibly winning some cookies sounds like a nice idea. “OK.”

Yixing looks like he needs a moment to let the answer sink in, so Yi Fan lets him and resorts to twirling a lock of the younger man’s hair as he waits.

“OK,” Yixing says after thirty seconds. “It’s a date.” Another car honks outside and Yi Fan suppresses the urge to laugh when Yixing’s smile becomes a frown. “But next time, we sleep at my place.”

Usually, people shook on these kinds of things, and Yi Fan would have too if he didn’t come to realize that the prospect of handshaking the man currently wrapped around him like a coil of wrapping paper was neigh. So instead, he seals the deal with a kiss.


End file.
